Seeing the Signs
by Animegirl1129
Summary: In which Clark notices some things about his brother and their resident graduate student that he somehow missed before and he feels the need to investigate further. Possible Pre-Slash.


Seeing the Signs

_**Written in response to cottoncandy_bingo prompt: attraction. I think this is the first Mind Games fic out there so far. Which, oh god, don't hate me. Really, I just needed to fill this square and I don't even know who I like on this show yet, or even if I really like this show at all or if I just like Christian Slater. Characters not mine, please enjoy! Comments are awesome.**_

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"No, look," Clark says, gesturing wildly as he explains the plan to their newest client. "Look, look, look. It's actually really, very simple. There are ways to tell if someone is interested, Ms. Tyler, very clear ways!"

"Such as?" Ms. Tyler, the highly skeptical woman in front of him, inquires, arms crossed defensively over her chest, and her foot tapping easily signals her irritation. She's clearly not very on board with this plan yet.

"Such as? Such as..." he takes a deep breath, it is a long list. "People give off blatant signs of attraction all the time without even knowing they're doing so. Dilated pupils, wide eyes, prolonged eye contact, smiling. Men will part their lips, flare their nostrils, raise their eyebrows - for a second, just for a second! - when they first see someone that they're interested in. They'll touch - smooth out, mess up, whatever - their hair, and preen themselves - smooth out their shirt or tie or pants, to make themselves look better," he explains, mimicking the behavior himself. "They'll touch their face a lot, to draw attention to it."

His eyes fall on Ross's office, just over Ms. Tyler's shoulder, where his brother is in the middle of a conversation (he'd thought it had been about more boring budget stuff, but maybe not) with Miles. He catches a flash of the hair touching thing from Miles, writes it off as an oddly timed coincidence. Perhaps he heard Clark's claim, is just reacting to the power of suggestion.

"Ugh," Clark continues, shaking his head as he refocuses on the client, "Interested men will stand up straighter, keep their shoulders squared. They'll put their hands on their hips a lot," he watches Ross do the same over her shoulder. Strange. "And, ugh, sometimes they'll mirror what the person they like does, mostly unconsciously." Miles' hands settle on his own as he leans back against the doorframe. "There's lots of hand gesturing, open handed is better. Lots of touching. And, you know how gentlemen always lead ladies around by the small of their backs or by their elbow? Yeah, that's... that's a thing." He watches his brother nudge Miles forward, and frowns when he spots the hand that settles on the young graduate student's elbow as they cross the room to settle in chairs around the meeting table. They sit opposite each other, and Clark is reminded of the other day, when he'd pointed out that sitting across from someone you're attracted to destroys the ability to argue coherently. Perhaps, he thinks, he chose the wrong person for that seating arrangement.

"Dr. Edwards?"

"Oh, yes. When sitting, they'll sit with their legs spread, and aim themselves toward the person they're interested in. They'll, ugh," it's harder to keep an eye on Miles and Ross now that they've moved, but they're both on the edges of their seats, leaned in close like they're conspiring over something, he sees Miles' head tilt in interest. All of those things are on the list, too.

Ms. Tyler cuts in before he can add anything else, clearly satisfied with his explanation. Her arms have dropped, suggesting she is a little more open to the plan now. "I understand," she says, a relieved smile on her face. "I look forward to working with you on this."

Clark mumbles out an agreement, but she keeps talking at him.

"You... you'll have to excuse me. I need to... have a talk with my co-workers over here," he says, not waiting for a response before he heads toward them. Luckily, she lets herself out.

He stops beside them, since he can't get past them because they're sitting so close that their knees are touching and when the hell did all of this even start?

Ross reluctantly breaks eye contact with Miles, slowly looking up at him with that perpetually annoyed scowl on his face (though it is bizarrely absent when he's talking to Miles, apparently). He looks less than thrilled about being interrupted. "Is there something we can help you with, Clark?"

"I don't know, Ross," he counters, "What were we discussing here?"

"We_,_" his brother stresses, waving a hand between himself and Miles as if it wasn't clear enough that Clark is not exactly welcome to join in on the conversation, "were talking about something that doesn't concern you." Clark notes that, while a single use of plural pronouns does not definitely mean anything, several studies have suggested that people in relationships are statistically more likely to use inclusive pronouns like 'we' and 'us'.

He finally maneuvers by them to get to his own preferred seat, and decides to see how far this goes. For science, of course.

"You know," he says, "I think our client might be interested in Miles here." It's a lie, of course, but they won't know that. She's about his age and judging by the subject they'd be dealing with in this case, he wouldn't be completely out of the range of her type.

He watches his brother for reactions and sure enough, there are flashes of anger - jealousy, rather - in the way his hands suddenly, subtly curl into fists, the pointless glare he shoots at the door.

"Isn't her boyfriend the whole reason she came to us?" Miles asks, gives him a weird look because if anyone here can call him on his bullshit, it's probably Miles (Ross would be an option, were it not for his present reaction to the idea).

"Oh, right," he says, laughs it off. "Yeah, maybe I was wrong."

Ross shoots him a glare, too (at least this one is somewhat deserved), and rolls his eyes. Clark begins to suspect that his brother has figured out just what he's playing at, so he's not surprised when he returns his attention to Miles. "What do you say we get out of here? Dinner, maybe?"

"Ugh," Miles stutters, hands once again smoothing imaginary wrinkles from his shirt, nervous eyes dart around. Maybe this isn't as advanced as Clark thought, if he is this anxious. "Sure."

"I'm not invited?"

"No," Ross answers quickly, already getting to his feet. "No, you are not. Beth will be here in five minutes to take you to dinner, so I think you can manage the wait, don't you?" He's herding Miles back to his office, where they left their coats, but he doubles back to warn, "don't mess this up for me, okay?"

"Wouldn't dream of it."


End file.
